


Video Killed the Radio Star, but the Radio Star Murdered the Phonograph

by Blueleaf12



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Angst(tm), Gen, One Shot, Reunions, Self-Doubt, William Carter is a Bastard and I'll Prove It-- A Memoir By Winona, Wilson Doesn't Know Pluto Exists, Wilson Misses the Great Depression by Ten Years, character death mention, investigating but lowkey, it be like that sometimes, polite small talk, some alternative titles because i literally cannot think of a good title for this:, tfw you're too polite to not answer questions and lowkey spill your life story to a stranger, this fic is serious i promise, wagstaff and wilson are grandfather/grandson, wilson and winona are platonic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:33:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22199422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blueleaf12/pseuds/Blueleaf12
Summary: Winona, in the midst of searching for her sister, applies to Voxola, a radio company under Robert Wagstaff; the prime suspect in Charlie’s disappearance. She is tasked with delivering the very first PR-76 Voxola radio to Wagstaff’s grandson, Wilson, looking for any information she can find.
Relationships: Charlie & Winona (Don't Starve), Wilson & Wagstaff (Don't Starve), Wilson & Winona, it wont let me do the tag for whatever reason
Comments: 7
Kudos: 32





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Using the fact that Wilson was designed to be of European descent and that it doesn’t specify where in Europe he’s from, I took from creative liberties. He’s half Polish and half English/Irish. He’s Polish on his mother’s side with Wagstaff being his maternal grandfather. His father is English/Irish.

The large envelope under Wilson’s arm was heavy as he pushed open the door of the post office. The gentle spring breeze followed him inside, but was then snuffed out by the sharp aroma of cigar smoke and musty paper. 

Just how he remembered it. 

He looked around and spotted a small line forming of other people with their mail. He slipped in behind the last person in line, bidding them a small nod in greeting, before giving one last look at the envelope under his arm. With careful hands, he gave one last peek inside. 

There was one large piece of paper with his handwriting, then an assortment of other pieces of paper scattered inside, covered in various formulas and observations. It was his research. With a small breath, he closed the envelope for the last time. 

It had one name scrawled on the front with Wilson’s handwriting, followed by an address set for Sidney Ohio:  _ Robert Wagstaff _ .

He then checked his watch, and peeked around the line to the front desk.  _ What’s taking so long?  _ He thought. Normally the line would at  _ least _ be moving more by now--

“Good morning, I’m looking for someone named… Wilson Higgsbury? I need directions to his residence.”

Wilson, blinking in surprise, almost didn’t recognize his own name. The voice came from the front of the line, from a tall woman with her hair pulled into a headband. She had a box under her arm. 

It was a woman he didn’t recognize before. Was she a new mail carrier? Confused, he stepped away from the line and approached her; the employee at the front desk looked just as confused as he felt. He cleared his throat, his research now forgotten. “Miss, that would be me.”

The woman turned around to face him; Wilson couldn’t help but take a small breath when he saw her up close. She looked down at him, her eyes lighting up and a smile overtaking her face. “Oh, that’s wonderful! It’s great to meet you!” She took him by a gloved arm and pulled him back outside. “I have something for you!”

“W-wait, I have my own mail--!” He attempted to protest, but his voice was lost to her ears. _Jeez_ , she was strong. It felt like a vice grip on his wrist. He just accepted his fate as he welcomed the spring breeze once more. 

On the sidewalk outside, she finally let him go. He tried not to make a face as he rubbed at his wrist. “What’s going on?” He asked. “Who… sent you?”  _ And why aren’t you just using the post office? _

The woman looked confused, then it clicked for her. “Oh, I’m so sorry for the abrupt introduction! My name is Winona. I work for your grandfather at Voxola, Mr. Robert Wagstaff. I was tasked to give this to you.” With that, she handed him the box. 

He had to shove his own envelope back under his arm as he took the box. And there indeed, on the top of the box, he saw his grandfather’s scrawled handwriting, stating Wilson’s name and home address in Saratoga Springs, New York. He rotated the box around in his hands and saw the Voxola logo on the side; he now noticed Winona’s jacket also has the Voxola logo on the lapel. 

Wilson’s heart jumped into his throat. He knew  _ exactly _ what this was. His research was forgotten yet again. 

Trying to control said excitement, he balanced the box in one arm to shake hands with Winona to be polite. “My name’s Wilson P. Higgsbury, but I suppose you knew that already.” He laughed a little, but it died out quick when Winona didn’t laugh back. He cleared his throat again. “It’s nice to meet one of my grandfather’s workers. Although... “ The box was heavy under his arm. “Why didn’t he just mail it to me?” Another pause. “And he pulled you out of your work day to travel all the way here?”

Winona now gave a laugh instead. It was a semi-awkward laugh. “Oh, you know how the bossman is. This is the very first Voxola PR-76 manufactured; I don’t think he’d trust the postal service with his life to deliver it to you without it breaking. Besides, it’s not a big deal; it’s been pretty slow at the factory since it just opened.” 

Wilson thought for a moment. “Yeah, that sounds about right for him.” He said, then dipped his head slightly to her. “Well, thank you for delivering it to me. I can’t wait to open it and try it out!” The excitement was seeping through his voice again, then stopped as he fumbled with the box again. That’s when he remembered his own mail. “Actually, if you’re going back to Voxola, do you mind delivering this to my grandfather? It’s… some of my research I’d like him to see. I was going to mail it this morning.” He didn’t elaborate further. 

Winona fished the envelope from under Wilson’s arm. “Sure, I can do that for you.” She paused. “However,” she said, “before I go back to Ohio, I promised the bossman I’d set it up for you.”

Wilson felt a slight jolt of annoyance. “I can set it up myself.” He said, his voice tiptoeing on the edge of coldness. “I won’t break it.”

“He thought you would say that.” Winona mused. “But please, I insist. I’d rather not go back to the bossman and tell him  _ you _ broke it.”

That made Wilson stop. Robert Wagstaff was normally a soft spoken, calm man. Not a lot got him angry. Not even when Wilson, a toddler at the time, ripped his grandfather’s glasses right from his face and tossed them onto the floor, shattering them. 

_ This _ would be the death of him. 

“Okay, okay.” Wilson finally said, giving in. “Can I at least treat you to coffee?” 

***

Wilson’s house sat atop a small hill near the edge of town, gently brushing the mountains that dotted the landscape. Winona had to double check the address herself on the box as Wilson trudged up the stairs to the porch and unlocked the door. 

The house looked like it had just been built within the last year or two.  _ Not bad carpentry. _ Winona thought as she waddled her way through the door carrying the box; Wilson held the door open for her. As she passed the threshold, he closed it behind her. 

“Make yourself at home.” He said, shrugging off his own light jacket and hanging it up near the door. He went to take Winona’s, but she had already shrugged it off herself and hung it up next to his. Wilson’s envelope was shoved into her inner breast pocket of the jacket. “How do you like your coffee?” He offered. 

“Just black, thank you.” She replied, following him into the kitchen with the box. 

She gave the small house a look over. There was just a simple entrance and a small sitting room that branched into the small kitchen. It looked homey, but mostly unused. 

The walls were covered in various posters and other large pieces of paper. It ranged from detailed anatomy sketches, to the Periodic Table, to complex looking math, to a diagram of the planets in the solar system. Besides a few pieces of furniture, there was a cabinet in the far corner of the room, one that looked dusted to perfection. Inside, there was a folded green uniform and helmet, and various other things Winona could only vaguely identify. Finally, resting on the top of the cabinet, there was a small black and white photograph of a younger looking Wilson and the bossman. On the opposite side, an old, full bookcase hugged the wall. 

A heavy feeling settled in her heart. What did she get herself into?

Winona pushed the thought away and busied herself with sitting down at his kitchen table. She opened the box. A familiar assortment of wires and other metal objects spilled out. This wouldn’t take too long. 

She could feel Wilson’s dark eyes focused on her as he stood at the stove boiling water. They were almost  _ too _ focused on her working hands rather than the stovetop. 

Nearly suffocating in the silence, Winona finally broke it. “So, Mr. Higgsbury, what’s the bossman like? I’ve only met him a handful of times since I was hired, so I don’t know him very well. He seems to be a nice man.”

“Please, call me Wilson.” He insisted. 

“Wilson it is, then.”

“Thank you.” Wilson replied, then continued, seemingly lost in thought. “My grandfather has been the biggest inspiration and support for me. He’s the main reason why I pursued the sciences.” He let out a slight chuckle, but there was an edge to it. “Against my parents’s wishes.”

Winona felt a small pang in her chest. That hit close to home. “I see.” She said. “I noticed the posters.”

This wasn’t what she was looking for. 

He was about to say more, but the shrieking of the kettle took his attention from her. He pulled it off the stove with a hand towel; that seemed to clear his mind and set him back on track. He grabbed cups for the two of them. “But yes, he is incredibly kind, thoughtful,  _ and _ intelligent. Arguably smarter than me; however, he seems more into tinkering and engineering rather than chemistry, so I suppose it balances out.”

“Makes sense he founded a radio company.” Winona mused. 

This wasn’t what she was looking for. 

She was wasting time here. 

Maybe she should just leave--

Wilson set a saucer down a few inches away from her workspace, then gave her the cup. The smell of coffee calmed her nerves slightly as she took a small break to sip at it. 

She could do this.

Wilson had his own cup and saucer as he sat down at the table across from her. “Yeah, it does.” Wilson let out a small sigh. “I was incredibly excited for him, to attend the grand opening of Voxola, but I couldn’t go because of my research.” Wilson tilted his head slightly in the direction of Winona’s coat. “Hence the letter.”

“I see.” She said. “I’ll be sure to deliver it right away. Don’t worry.”

There was another lapse in their conversation. Winona felt herself sweating. She busied herself with her drink again, mulling over her thoughts. Polite small talk. That was all. “So… what did the bossman do before he founded Voxola? Was he an inventor?”

Wilson pulled a slight face; Winona could almost see the gears turning in his head. “You know, I don’t really remember. I know he did some odd jobs here and there when I was in my twenties, planning for Voxola, but any earlier than that… yeah, I don’t remember. I was only a kid. More focused on my studies than anything else.” He laughed a little to himself again. 

Winona tried to keep her face neutral, but the pang of disappointment within her was almost overwhelming. 

More questions. Literally  _ anything _ . 

“Does he travel at all?”

“Only to Sidney, Ohio. Ever since he and… my mother moved to the US, he tended to stay in one place. He hates travelling. I was surprised he didn’t stay here for Voxola, but I guess he needed to just go on his own accord. So he should stay at that location for a good while.”

“So he lived in Saratoga Springs ever since?”

“Yeah. He always liked the mountains here.”

Winona bit the inside of her cheek; they were thousands of miles away from Southern California. 

“Where’d he learn about engineering? I’m quite passionate about it myself, and he’s amazing.” 

“He’s an immigrant from Poland, so I’m not sure. He might be self taught.”

Winona watched Wilson shift slightly in his chair, as if he couldn’t get comfortable. It was hard reading his neutral face and tone of voice. He seemed… different. 

“I was wondering where his accent was from. I couldn’t put my finger on it.” She said, but her mind was somewhere else. 

Wilson gave a slight shrug and didn’t reply; he was more focused on the radio than her. His folded leg bobbed anxiously under the table. 

Did she have the wrong guy? 

Take a sip from her coffee. Take a breath.

She didn’t have any other leads. 

_ I don’t think he kidnapped Charlie.  _

With the final screw in place, Winona sat back in her chair. “There.” She gave him a slight smile, one that did not quite reach her eyes. “It’s done. Why don’t you try it out?”

That got Wilson’s attention. He abandoned his half finished cup on the table and pulled the radio closer to him. Whatever funk he had gotten into fell away. He waited for Winona to plug it into the wall, then fiddled with it. Before Winona could explain to Wilson what he needed to do, he successfully pulled the antenna out and started tuning it. Garbled music and voices followed. 

“I remembered one of his old prototypes.” Wilson stated, before the voices and music thinned out and became clear. 

Ragtime began to play. 

It made Winona feel uneasy. 

This was definitely, definitely wrong. 

“Not my personal favourite.” Wilson said. “But it’ll do for now.”

  
  


***

Wilson bid Winona goodbye and watched her walk away from his small home until he couldn’t see her anymore. 

In a few days, he would see her name in the newspaper, pronounced dead from a fire at Voxola. 

Along with Robert ‘Wagstaff’ Waligora. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I also intended this to be a one shot, but I added more! This is probably the end of this fic. Please enjoy!

Wilson checked his map, squinting at some notes Wickerbottom had scrawled on the side. His eyes scanned it over and over again, his breath catching in his chest. 

_ “A new house seemingly popped out of nowhere. I thought it was a pig house at first, but the architecture was too perfect and full of life to be from the pigmen. As I was sketching it on this map, I watched a woman exit the cabin to do some work outside. I hid in some bushes so she did not see me; I couldn’t tell if she was friendly. She wore some sort of construction jumpsuit and a bandana in her hair. She looked strong and handy.  _

Wilson looked up from the map, then put it away in his bag. The cabin was small, but made with care, arguably better than anything Wilson had seen after entering The Constant. Flowerbeds full of fresh flowers hugged small windows. 

A light was on inside.

Wilson checked the setting sun. It was almost night. His torch felt heavy in his hands.

If whoever was inside didn’t want to talk to him, it might not be enough to get him back home.

He hurried up to the door. He hesitates for a few seconds, hand inches from the door, before he finally knocked. Holding his breath, he waited.

At first, there was no sound behind the door. Then, he heard movement; heavy boots on heavy floorboards followed, then grew louder and louder, until the door swung open.

And there was Winona, her hair down and around her grease covered face, wielding a gigantic, heavy wrench over her head.

Wilson let out a squawk and scrambled backwards on the ground, hands frantic for his axe. “Winona!? It’s me! Wilson!”

Winona stared at him, recognition eventually coming over her face. She lowered the wrench slowly in her hands, until it clanged on the floor next to her. “...Wilson?” Her voice was barely a whisper. “What… are you doing here?”

Wilson put away his axe and pulled himself off the ground. His hands shook as he dusted himself off. “I could ask you the same thing.” He said. “Mind letting me in?”

Winona checked outside; it was nearly night. She bent down to grab her wrench, then opened the door wider for Wilson with a slight nod. He followed her inside, letting out a small breath of relief he wasn’t left to the elements.

The cabin was small, but comfy on the inside. There was a small half built table next to one chair, with a fireplace off to the side. The fire was low, casting meager light in the room. 

“I’d say ‘make yourself at home’, but I only made one chair.” Winona said. “If I’m bein’ honest, I wasn’t ever expectin’ company out here.”

“That’s alright, I can stand.” Wilson replied. He shouldered off his bag and set it on the table. He dug around some, then pulled out some wood. He offered some to her. “You look like you could use this.”

Winona peered at him suspiciously after depositing her wrench in a small chest. It was nearly to the brim with tools and other supplies. She held her bandana in her mouth as she combed her hair back up out of her face. Once in place, she tied her hair up. “Why should I trust you?”

“I’m not gonna hurt you.” Wilson said. “Besides…” He looked down at his arms. “I think we both know who’d win in a fight.” 

That got a small laugh out of Winona. “Alright, alright, you got me there.” She went over and sat in her chair.

A few seconds of silence passed between them. “So,” Wilson finally said, “why don’t you go first?” He crossed his arms over his chest; his voice was light and controlled, but there was a hint of anger lingering underneath. “What were you  _ really _ doing at my house two years ago?” Was it even two years ago still? He had no idea.

Winona blinked. “Two years ago? Whaddya mean? It was 1919 the last time I checked. You gotta few screws loose or somethin’?”

“I… No, I’m pretty sure the last time  _ I _ checked it was 1921.” Wilson replied. 

Winona ran a hand down her face. “You can’t just drop it on me you’re from the future, Wilson. That’s just not possible.”

“It’s the truth.” Wilson said, then changed the subject. “But, Winona, I thought you  _ died.  _ In the fire at… Voxola.”

The emotions Wilson had bottled up hit him like a slap. And there he was again, a few years younger with his mother and father, burying an empty casket at their synagogue. He could still see the headstone, as clear as day, in his mind.  _ Robert ‘Wagstaff’ Waligora.  _ Wilson swallowed hard and suppressed a shiver. 

Winona went quiet. Sbe stared down at her table, drumming her fingers on the surface. “I tried to save your grandfather, Wilson.” Her voice was quiet, barely over a whisper. “I really, truly did. I think he was sucked in here. I tried to pull him out of that weird door, but…” She shook her head. “He got pulled in. I tried to go after him. And I ended up here.” Another pause. “I’m sorry.”

Wilson let out a breath through his nose. He bit the inside of his lip. How did his grandfather get involved with Maxwell?  _ Without  _ him ever knowing? Wilson didn’t know. “...I see.” He finally said.

“I thought the bossman was involved in something… fishy.” Winona said. “Something to do with… the disappearance of my sister, Charlie.” The voice was heavy on her tongue. It threatened to strangle her. “That’s why I applied to Voxola. I didn’t expect the portal, or  _ anything,  _ or—”

“Wait, hold up.” Wilson said. “ _ You’re  _ Charlie’s sister?”

Winona practically shot up in her chair. “How do you know her? Is she here? You need to bring me to her!”

“Do you  _ really _ want to know?”

“Yes!” Winona begged. 

Wilson pointed to the window, outside to the darkness. “She’s out there, the very entity of darkness itself.” He suppressed another shudder, ignoring the dread that creeped up on him. 

“...What?” Winona’s voice was faint as she sat back heavily in her chair. She looked like she was about to pass out.

“I’m still not fully sure why, or how, but… Charlie was transformed into a shadow monster.” He paused. “I’m sorry.”

Winona propped her head up in her hands. “Jesus.” She breathed. Her voice was watery, threatening to break the dam that surrounded her heart. 

Wilson gave her some time to herself as he put another log on the fire. A faint shower of ash followed, then settled back down in the fireplace. 

More silence passed. Wilson’s mind ran in circles. “Winona?”

“Hmm?”

“Is it okay if I ask you something?”

“I can’t exactly stop ya.” Winona replied. She didn’t look up at him. “But I’m also trying to have a moment, here, you know? My sweet baby sister might as well be dead for all I know.”

“It’s about… her disappearance.” Wilson said, fighting feelings of guilt. “What do you mean that you thought my grandfather was involved?” 

“Her stuff was sent home to my family.” Winona replied. “In British Columbia. We found…  _ weird  _ things there. Stuff my parents refused to go through. But I  _ did _ . Without them really knowing. It was nothing conclusive at the time, but when strange missing person posters started popping up… I started to connect the dots.”

More of his mind running a goddamn marathon. “Is…  _ that _ why you stopped by my house?”

“Yeah.” She said. “Sorry, bud, for doing that to ya. I was… getting desperate then, you see. The bossman  _ did _ ask me to deliver the PR-76 to you, but… I  _ may  _ have fibbed  _ just _ a little to build it for you. Just… so I could ask questions.”

A stab of annoyance hit Wilson in the gut, but he suppressed it almost as quickly. Now was not the time for a ruined ego. “I… see.” He fumbled for his words. “I just… don’t know how he could be involved in all this. He just doesn’t seem the type.”

“There  _ are _ different sides to the same person, you know.” Winona said. “It’s possible it was a part of him no one saw.”

“His thirst for knowledge is strong, like my own, but… maybe you misinterpreted the stuff you found?” Wilson felt like he was grasping for straws. “And maybe my grandfather was just another victim of Maxwell’s manipulation.”

Winona’s head snapped up to meet Wilson’s eyes. “Maxwell?” She asked. “Who’s that?”

***

Wilson stayed the night at her place, sleeping on a straw roll on the floor. He’d slept through worse, sure, but it was up there for the worst night of his life. 

They set out early that morning, fighting fatigue as they ate a meager breakfast. Wilson lead her to his camp with the others, not knowing what to expect.

They found Willow first, picking at the embers of their fire. Her head snapped in the direction of Wilson’s footsteps; her expression went from confused, to elated. “Wilson! There you are!” She sprang to her feet, running up to him. “Holy shit, where have you been? We’ve been looking all over for you! Wickerbottom especially! You can’t just wander around—”

Willow cut herself off as she finally noticed Winona, who was lagging behind more, watching Willow with a wary expression. Willow blinked. “Who’s that?”

“An old friend of mine.” Wilson replied, but did not elaborate. “Look, where’s Wickerbottom? I need to talk to her.”

“What for? You’re not answering my question!”

“Willow.” Wilson’s voice was firm.  _ “I mean it.” _

Willow blinked, taking a moment to recover her composure. “Okay, okay, I’ll get her. Sheesh.” She looked between Wilson and Winona, before running off in the direction of some trees.

Wilson let out a sigh and shouldered off his backpack near the fire pit. Some tents surrounded it. “Make yourself at home, I guess.” Wilson said.

Winona stayed where she was. “Are you sure they’re friendly?” 

“Who, Willow and Wickerbottom?” Wilson made his way towards his tent; his achy bones yearned for their warmth and rest. “Willow’s kind of a pain in the ass. You get used to her.”

“Like a little sister.” Winona murmured to herself.

“What was that?”

“Nothing. What about Wickerbottom?”

“She’s kinda strict, but means well.” Wilson stuck his head inside the tent, rummaging for his things. “She’s quite knowledgeable. Not as knowledgeable as  _ me _ of course, but—”

_ “Higgsbury!” _

Wickerbottom’s voice made both of them jump. Wilson smacked his head against the frame of his tent, sending him stumbling back, stunned. They both looked around and found a furious Wickerbottom stalking up to them, with Willow following. She looked pale and somewhat scared.

“Where have you  _ been _ ?!” She snapped, stopping before Wilson. “I know I sent you to check out that house, but I expected to see you back by nightfall! Not stay the night—” She stopped when she noticed Winona standing there, watching. Her anger subsided slightly. “Oh, I see you’ve recruited the young woman.”

Winona’s eyes narrowed. “Are you stalkin’ me?!” Her eyes snapped to Wilson. “You’re tryna set me up, aren’t you!?”

Rubbing his head, Wilson stood up quickly between them. “Wait, Winona, I can explain!”

“Then  _ start _ explaining.”

***

Wilson introduced Winona to Wickerbottom and Willow over brunch. He skipped over some of their first meeting; Winona wasn’t phased. She seemed somewhat relieved, even.

While he danced around their past, he was firm about other things. 

“Higgsbury, we’ve  _ talked _ about this.” Wickerbottom snapped. “We talked, and we  _ promised, _ we would never attempt Maxwell’s door again.” Wickerbottom shivered a little at the mention of  _ you know who _ . “I don’t think I can allow you to go again, even with Ms. Winona, here.”

“What, you think I’m not capable? Please.” Winona waved Wickerbottom off. “I’ve been livin’ on my own for quite some time here. I think I can take care of myself and ‘ol pipsqueak here.” She jabbed a thumb to Wilson. 

Wilson’s face flushed an angry red as Willow snickered at them. “Hey!” 

“It’s the truth.”

“ _ Anyway _ ,” Wilson turned his attention to Wickerbottom again. “I know what I said. I do.  _ But _ ,” he took a breath, “we both have questions for Maxwell. That we need to ask together.” 

“We  _ all  _ have questions for podsnappery fellow.” Wickerbottom sneered. 

“Look, Grams, my sister is out there.” Winona gestured vaguely around her. “ _ Someone _ is responsible for bringing her to this place, and I need to find out who.”

That changed Wickerbottom’s demeanour. Willow’s eyes bugged out in silence. “You’re—?”

“Yeah.”

Wickerbottom’s expression softened. “I’m sorry to hear that, dear.”

“Don’t be.” Winona said. “Feelin’ bad about it won’t bring her back. That’s why I need to go.” She glanced at Wilson. “Why we  _ both _ need to go.”

“Why Wilson, though?” Willow pipped up once she got her composure back. “Why not go on your own?”

Another glance at Wilson. This was inevitable; they both knew it. “I think there’s someone else maybe pulling the strings. Besides Maxwell.

“Have you heard of Voxola?”

***

They promised Wickerbottom one try through Maxwell’s door. The trek there was short, but tense; no one said a word.

As they stopped before a small fire pit next to the door, Winona suppressed a shiver. “That’s it?”

“Yeah.” Willow said. “Creepy, huh?”

Winona looked over to Wilson. “This looks like the door the bossman went through.”

Wilson let out a sigh. “I was hoping you weren’t going to say that.”

“Sorry,” she said, “but I thought you should know.”

They prepared for their departure. Wickerbottom and Willow watched them as they stood before the door. 

Wilson spared a glance back at them, before activating the door. Two pairs of shadow hands reached out, grabbing both Winona and Wilson. They were sucked into the door in an instant, leaving nothing behind.

Silence passed between Wickerbottom and Willow for a few seconds, before Wickerbottom broke it. “You can go back to camp, dear.” She said. “I’ll wait for them.”

***

The trek through Maxwell’s Door was hell.

Maxwell greeted them like normal in every world. He seemed slightly taken aback with more than one person at once attempting his Door, but that didn’t stop them. 

It started in eternal winter first, then quick, short seasons, then multiple islands, then two main islands, and finally a world full of darkness. Having two people made some worlds easier, and others harder. 

While Wilson and Winona got off to a rocky start before The Constant, they grew closer over the many weeks and months spent in those worlds, searching for the Things. 

After what felt like an eternity, they reached Maxwell’s island. Clad in matching miner’s helmets and the Divining Rod, they made their way as quickly as possible to the Nightmare Throne.

Neither spoke; whether they just ran out of things to say to each other, or no words could describe what they were feeling. It was hard to say.

Slowly, music floated to their ears, stopping Wilson in his tracks. Winona almost walked into him. She collected herself and looked around. “Wilson?” She whispered, her voice rough and quiet from lack of speaking. “What is it?”

He held up a hand to her, silencing her. He strained his ears, trying to make out the direction and faint words. “This way.” He said, taking off in the direction of the sound. Winona jogged after him.

After a while, she heard the music, too. But she didn’t understand. It sounded foreign to her.

They finally found the source of the music. In a small clearing of light, they found a lone radio sitting on a table, plugged into nothing. However, it still sang tinny polka music into the darkness. An old gramophone was left knocked over and abandoned on the ground next to it.

Wilson’s stomach sank and twisted itself into knots. He knew this song. 

He knew who loved it more than anything in the world.

Winona stopped, too, and her breath caught in her throat. “That’s the PR-76–”

“Precisely.”

Their heads snapped up to the new voice that joined them. Half cast in shadow, sitting a few feet away, was Wagstaff, sitting on the Nightmare Throne. He peered at them through cracked glasses. There was a pile of ash and bone next to the Throne, undisturbed for some time. 

Wilson felt his legs turn to water. “ _ Dziadziu _ ?”

Wagstaff’s gaze shifted from Winona to Wilson. Whatever smirk he had on his face flickered and died. “Wilson?”

Wilson was sent back again. He remembered the face of his grandmother, blurry in his memories. It was almost three decades since her death, as they moved to the United States to try to help her failing health before he was born. He remembered bits and pieces of the funeral, clinging to his father while his mother and Wagstaff clung to each other for support. 

He felt a rough, strong hand grab his shoulder and steady him in the present. “Easy, there.” Winona murmured to him. 

Wagstaff’s break in composure sealed up again quickly. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here. I suppose your natural curiosity for knowledge got the better of you, hm? Interesting.”

“I… I watched them  _ bury _ your empty casket next to  _ babci _ ’s.” Wilson managed. “I… I thought...”

That got Wagstaff’s attention again. His demeanor seemed to change on the Throne as he resisted against it, but it was subdued. He didn’t reply. 

Half holding Wilson up, Winona finally spoke up. “Boss?” She asked. Different emotions swirled within her, threatening to choke her. “Where’s… Maxwell?”

“Oh, him?” Wagstaff gave a dismissive wave of his hand to the pile of bones by his feet. “He perished right before my eyes once I freed him. A shame, really.”

That hit Winona like a slap. Maxwell, dead? Before the two of them could even speak to him? Winona cursed under her breath. Wilson did not react. “So, it’s just you, then.”

“Indeed it is.” Wagstaff peered at Winona through his spectacles. “And what are  _ you _ doing here?” There was a faint flicker of recognition on his face. “I remember you. You delivered the PR-76 to Saratoga Springs, New York, per my request.”

“The very one.” Winona said. “Before the fire.”

Yet another flicker of recognition that morphed into shock and horror. The Throne subdued it. Wagstaff said nothing. 

“I’m here because I tried to save you.” Winona said. “Through the portal. I… saw you being sucked in, but I couldn’t… pull you out in time.” She paused. “So I fixed the portal and went after you.” 

“Hm, I was wondering why I lost a glove on the way here.” Wagstaff mused. “You didn’t need to do that, you know.”

“I know.” She said. “But I did anyway.” She readjusted Wilson in her arms. “I’m also here because I have  _ questions _ for you.”

“The fire.” Wilson murmured, seemingly not hearing Wagstaff’s and Winona’s conversation. “My research—”

“I read your results when Winona delivered them back to me. I was impressed.” Wagstaff said. “I must’ve forgotten to send them back to you before the fire. My apologies.”

Wagstaff’s words were empty to Wilson; his minor praise didn’t dent the anguish he felt inside. He didn’t reply.

Winona felt a pang of guilt. She forgot about that package. 

Wagstaff’s gaze moved back to Winona. “Your questions?”

Winona’s mind ran a mile a minute. She fumbled over her words, instantly forgetting the carefully constructed questions she had prepped before. “My sister.” She finally said. “Charlie.” She cringed. “Were you involved in her disappearance? Bringing her… to this place?”

“I have no knowledge of her.” Wagstaff said. “Before The Constant, at least.”

That hit Winona like a sack of bricks. She glanced back down at the pile of bones, anger overtaking her. Was all her carefully constructed research all for naught? “Maxwell would have known the truth! But you killed him!”

“I did nothing of the sort. It was purely accidental.” Wagstaff’s voice was calm. “Whatever he did to bring you to this place, I am not involved with. I came here for my own knowledge, and that’s all.”

The polka music dragged on.

“I don’t care!” Winona let Wilson go as she stalked up to the Throne. She took the Divining Rod from him. 

That woke Wilson up. He staggered to his feet, then pulled himself upright, his eyes wide and clear. “Wait Winona! Don’t!” He ran after her, grabbing her upper forearm to stop her.

She snatched her arm out of Wilson’s hand with ease. “Wilson, that isn’t the bossman anymore. He’s just a puppet of the Throne, now.”

Wilson glanced at the bones. His stomach clenched in anxiety. “You don’t know what’ll happen if you let him go free!”

“I’m willing to take that risk!” Winona snapped, before reaching for the Divining Rod Holder.

Everything happened at once.

Wagstaff cried out, telling Winona to leave him be.

Wilson watched Winona in silent horror, hands grasping out at nothing.

Winona moving in slow motion as she put the Divining Rod in the holder.

Darkness fell.

Before Winona could put the Divining Rod all the way in the lock, shadow arms reached out from the shadows, grabbing Wilson and Winona. Another hand flicked the Divining Rod off the holder, smashing it on the ground.

Wilson and Winona screamed, but were drowned out as the darkness took them.

Wagstaff was alone.

  
  


***

Wilson felt a pair of hands shaking him awake. “Higgsbury! Wake up! Are you alright?”

Wilson’s eyes snapped open, and he made eye contact with Wickerbottom, who was kneeled over him. Her hair fell in her face, and her cheaters slipped off her nose, dangling in front of her face on a chain around her neck. She looked like she saw a ghost.

Wilson rubbed at his face. His head hurt. “How long were we gone for…?” 

“About two hours, dear.” She pulled him up off the ground. “What happened? Did you find Maxwell?”

“He’s dead.” Wilson managed. His voice was as dead as Maxwell’s bones. “Someone… else took his place.” 

Before Wilson could explain to Wickerbottom, they heard Winona’s voice cry out from a few feet away. “Charlie?!”

Wickerbottom and Wilson exchanged a glance before rushing over towards the voice. And there was Winona, crouched over another woman clad in a black dress, unconscious in her arms. 

“Finally,” Winona sobbed, her tears wiping away the dirt on her face. “I finally found you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dziadziu is polish for "grandfather", and babci is polish for "grandmother".

**Author's Note:**

> I have a funny story with this game. I was a bit of a fan in 2016 but didn’t actually play the game until after Christmas in 2019. I was watching a video on Don’t Starve, minding my own business, when I had a nosebleed. This wasn’t that uncommon, it was winter, so I just got up to deal with it, but it just wasn’t stopping. I ended up needing to go to the hospital because it was that bad. Mind you, this was during the Ebola scare, so I had to answer questions about it. A few weeks earlier, I went to the Bahamas for a trip with my school. So the hospital had to seriously consider if I had Ebola, since I had been out of the country within three weeks. Thanks Wilson, you’re a real bro.


End file.
